


Troubles On a Burning Pile

by marsisaplanet



Series: Faking God [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Childhood Trauma, Coffee Shops, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsisaplanet/pseuds/marsisaplanet
Summary: When Corpse is in civilian mode, sometimes he wants coffee. And while he wants Sykkuno, he doesn't want to run into him in civilian mode. Unfortunately, you can't always get what you want. Maybe burning a body will get his mind off of things....OR:Corpse and Sykkuno upgrade from flirting next to a dead body, to kissing next to one.
Relationships: Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Faking God [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091486
Comments: 32
Kudos: 458
Collections: Server Simps





	Troubles On a Burning Pile

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Very heavily referenced Child Abuse and Child Death. Also violence, but you were expecting that.
> 
> Song For This Installment: Burning Pile by Mother Mother

Corpse needed caffeine. It had been a long week. First the flight to Chicago, plus this second job today. . . The man just needed a coffee. With lots of sugar. Just caffeine and sugar. Probably some caramel and some whipped cream. . . Maybe a breve. Fuck yeah. 

He walked into the Coffee Bean with his laptop in hand. It was weird not wearing the mask across his face. He had left his eyepatch in his pocket. The only good thing about this pandemic is that he could cover up the bottom half of his face. He still had some anonymity when going into public. Besides, no one in the business knew what he looked like. They wouldn’t be able to spot him getting coffee. That wasn’t the thing he had to worry about in public. He had to worry about the scar. 

When Corpse was four, his father left. That wasn’t an issue, dads walk out on families all the time. The issue was his mother. She broke down once her husband abandoned her with two young children, one a newborn. 

It was fine for awhile. Corpse went to Kindergarten, made a few friends. He learned the alphabet, how to count, how to look out for his baby sister. It was when he was twelve that his mother really snapped. 

She’d already been bad for a while, yelling at Victoria constantly. It's hard raising a toddler by yourself, especially when you’re drunk all the time. Corpse did everything he could to help. He made sure his sister got to school. He packed her lunches. He walked her to the bus stop. When she had nightmares, images of their mother hitting her flashing in her mind, Corpse would let her sleep in bed with him. He always held his baby sister tight as she silently cried. She knew better than to make noise, than their mom would attack again.

Their mother would grab a newspaper and hit Victoria on the arm. She’d smack her with a ruler or a wooden spoon. She would take Corpse and force him to read his report cards over and over again if he ever got a mark below a B. One time she pricked him with a fountain pen till he bled. She wrote his name on a piece of paper with the blood. And even worse, she made Victoria watch the whole thing. 

He had to protect his baby sister. He had to make sure she never saw anything like that again. He would protect his Victoria from the world, his little Via. 

But one day, she was gone. Corpse had walked from the middle school to his sister’s elementary school only seven blocks away to discover that she had never arrived to class. 

The bus that had taken her to school so many times had been hijacked by a bomber. The bus’ breaks had been cut and pipe bombs had been duct taped under the seats. What happened next was terrible but expected. The bus exploded, his sister with it. The only thing he had left of her was a little gold necklace shaped like a heart with a V on it. He had gotten it for her fifth birthday.

He had scrounged up the money from washing dishes at the pizza place next door. The owner was more than kind, letting Corpse do small jobs in the kitchen and teaching him to play guitar. He had been so proud of the shitty necklace he had gotten for his little sister from Claire’s. 

“Via,” Corpse had whispered as she slept, gently shaking her awake. “Feliz Cumpleaños Via.” 

She yawned, eyes halfway closed as her big brother pressed something into her hand. All Victoria did was nod, hug her brother, and go back to sleep. Not aware of the small yet meaningful gift in her hand until she woke up again two hours later. She never took it off after that. Even as her mother yelled at her while Corpse worked, she felt like her big brother was protecting her. 

But the one time she left home without it, she had died. 

And so Corpse was left to ask himself “Why?” Why did it have to be Victoria? Why did it have to be his Via? 

His mom was even more broken after that. She may have been an awful mother, but it didn’t change the fact that she had loved her daughter in some twisted way.

It was Corpse’s fault that Victoria was gone. He didn’t protect her enough. He didn’t teach her how to defend herself. He should’ve walked her to school. He should’ve made sure she walked into her classroom each day.

So one day when Corpse’s mom was frying some vegetables on the stove, she grabbed Corpse by the base of his neck and pressed his face directly against the pan. 

He didn’t go to school after that. He knew what would happen if he did. He knew the stares that he would get. It didn’t change his work schedule though. He walked over to the pizza place the next day and passed by the owner. 

The old man didn’t say anything. He saw the burn that would scar and flake across Corpse’s right eye and told him to go home. CPS came shortly after. As soon as heard the knock on the door, he snuck out the window and ran down the fire escape. Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. No one to be with, just himself.

And so Corpse was alone, but not lonely. He had his Via in his pocket with him at all times.

He had Via around his neck when he had found the bomber and dismembered him like a boned duck; the only time he allowed himself to be messy, the only time he allowed himself to make sure that the pain his victim felt was endless. 

Via was still with him in the coffee shop, always inside his pocket close to his heart. There’s a long list of reasons why Corpse was afraid to go outside and why he wore his mask. Why he was nervous standing in line at the coffee shop. Why he wore an eyepatch whenever he had to stare at a screen or look through the scope of a rifle. 

Corpse was at the front of the line now, staring awkwardly at the zit faced teenager standing behind the counter. 

“Can I uhhhh, can I get a large Golden Eagle Breve, extra caramel and whip?” Corpse asked. The teenager was staring at his scar. 

“Y-yeah,” he said, plugging in the order into the register. “Yeah for sure, uh your total is $5.42. Could I get a name for the order?”

“Uhhhhh,” Corpse always gave a specific name for his coffee orders. “Victor.”

Corpse paid and sat down at one of those weird tables that were half booth, half table with a chair. He opened up his laptop, getting ready to work when suddenly he did a double take.

Standing at the end of the coffee bar was Sykkuno, waiting for his drink, scrolling through his phone. No emerald green suit, no straight soldier like posture. He was in civilian clothing and it made Corpse want to scream. 

He wasn’t wearing anything fancy. Just a green fitted baseball tee and some grey sweatpants. Maybe that’s what was making Corpse act up so much. Seeing this man be so casual, so normal when he was really dark inside. He looked so innocent, but he was the exact opposite. 

Wait, would Sykkuno recognize him? He had been staring for so long. Corpse hastily put on his eyepatch and pretended to work, only glancing up at Sykkuno every other second. 

“Large matcha latte for Thomas,” the barista called from behind the counter. And to Corpse’s surprise, Sykkuno walked up to the counter and grabbed his drink before nodding and sitting down at his own weird booth/chair combo. 

“Thomas,” Corpse tried it out on his tongue. “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas.” 

“Large Golden Eagle for Victor,” the barista called again. 

Corpse slammed his laptop shut before hastily walking up to get his drink. He nodded at the barista, thanked him. And turned around walking straight into a man headed towards the bathroom.

“Oh Jesus,” the man said. Corpse blinked. Of fucking course it had to be Sykkuno. 

“I’m so sorry,” Corpse said. Sykkuno’s eyes widened once he heard Corpse’s voice. 

“Do I. . .” Sykkuno said slowly. “Do I know you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Corpse said quickly. “I’m so sorry for running into you.”

“It’s okay,” Sykkuno said with a nervous laugh. “It’s no big deal.” He waved shyly before heading to the bathroom.

Corpse needed to get out of there. He rushed out the front door after grabbing his laptop and headed home, his lungs bursting out of his rib cage as he speedwalked. Sykkuno almost recognized him. There wasn’t really a way to mask his voice in public. He probably shouldn’t even go out at all. 

Work from home it was. Well, at least until later that night.

*

Burning a dead body is one of the most efficient ways to get rid of your evidence. After Corpse’s weekend in Chicago, he really didn’t feel like burying any bodies. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about all of the leaves this time. 

Corpse threw drift wood on top of the man he had just shot. He’d killed him underneath a dock, far away from the tourists who typically visited the beach. There was a can of lighter fluid next to him, ready for whenever the skeleton of the bonfire was complete. 

There was a shuffle behind him. It couldn’t be Sykkuno again. Even if it was he’d changed clothes and put on his mask after coming home from the coffee shop. There would be no way that he could recognize him from earlier. But what if it was Sykkuno, what if the cartel sent him after him again, what if-

“Oh. Hi Toast,” Corpse grumbled. 

“Hello to you too Corpse,” Toast replied. Corpse wanted to slap the fedora off of Toast’s head. 

“What are you doing here?” Corpse asked. “Poki hired me for this mark, not you.”

“She had an errand to run,” Toast shrugged. “Asked me to fill in.”

Corpse didn’t want Toast. The man was infuriating. Always with the puns, always with the sexual jokes, always a little bit too condescending. And after Corpse’s conversation with Rae, he knew that he was always with Sykkuno. 

“Well it’s good to see you,” Corpse said, turning back to his work. 

“I heard you’ve been offered a job,” Toast said, walking closer to Corpse. 

“News travels fast,” Corpse said. 

“There’s four of us capos Corpse,” Toast said with a laugh. “Of course I knew.” 

“Are you here to tell me to take it?” Corpse asked. “Because you’ve all been bothering me so much that I’m thinking about turning it down out of spite.” Toast laughed. 

“How dramatic of you,” Toast pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “No, I didn’t come here to tell you to take it.”

He pushed the pocket towards Corpse who shook his head. Toast shrugged before lighting it. 

“I came here to tell you to turn it down,” Toast said after he took a drag. Well that was new. 

“Why?” Corpse asked, stopping his task and turning around to actually pay attention to Toast. 

“Drama,” Toast said with a smile. “Plain and simple. While having you join the Comfy Cartel would definitely add to our arsenal, it would also cause some serious damage in the ecosystem. You understand, of course?”

Corpse nodded. He was well known for a reason. If he took this job there would of course be benefits, but he would have an even larger target on his back. His clientele would get smaller, the Dream SMP would be infuriated. The carefully crafted balance between the two largest rivals in town would be thrown into chaos. 

“Yeah,” Corpse said, turning back to his pile of wood and fresh dead body. “I understand.”

“Good,” Toast said. “Just a little something for you to think about. Well, I’ll tell Poki that you did well. Efficient as always.” 

And with that, Toast walked away, leaving Corpse on a beach alone with his thoughts and his bonfire. It was still light out. There was no point in lighting the fire until the stars came out. There was something comforting about fire and a night sky.

Corpse walked up and down the beach, picking up pieces of driftwood and hiding from teenagers drinking stolen liquor. Toast had a point. He disobeyed orders to make that point. But on the other hand. . . Sykkuno.

God, the man looked stunning in green. It brought out all of the best things in him. It matched his hair, bright and vibrant underneath the color of some of his staple facial features. And his eyes were so dark, heartbreakingly brown and warm. Don’t even get Corpse started on his hair. Corpse wanted to run his hands through it so badly, to feel how silky smooth it was. Just looking at how fluffy it was made Corpse feel gooey inside. 

It was dangerous how this man was making him feel. Half the time he was on edge, half the time he was a stick of butter in the sun. He was fucked up to say the least. 

It was dark now. He was looking at Van Gogh’s masterpiece up close and personal. Just the sound of the waves and a fire he had to start. 

Corpse threw the last of his firewood onto the pile before grabbing the lighter fluid and dousing it. Not the most pleasant smell in the world, but Corpse had been around a lot worse. He pulled out a box of matches and just as he was ready to strike, a voice interrupted him. 

“I’ve always loved the beach,” Corpse smiled. Sometimes you hope for things to happen and they actually do. He turned around.

“You seem like a beach person,” he said to Sykkuno. Corpse took a second to close his eyes when he realized that Sykkuno was still in civilian clothing. 

“Well, I like the water,” Sykkuno replied.

“Why not forests? They have a lot more plants.”

“That is true,” Sykkuno said, pondering the question. “I suppose it’s because the weather is nice. And oceans have plants too, they’re just a bit. . . different.” Corpse smiled at the word different. It was a word he had heard all his life. 

“That’s fair,” Corpse said, turning back to his matches. “Would you uh. . .” Corpse pointed to the unlit bonfire behind him. “Would you like to do the honors?” Sykkuno chuckled. 

“It would be my pleasure,” he delicately took the match box from Corpse before setting one ablaze. He glanced at Corpse for a second after staring at the small flame in his hand before silently flicking it onto the pile of driftwood in front of him. The bonfire erupted in fire immediately. 

Sykkuno stared at the fire, his smile widening as he watched the flames reach for the stars. All the way, Corpse stared at him. The way the orange flickered across Sykkuno’s face, the shadows it carefully wove and cast. Corpse never thought that Sykkuno could look even more beautiful, but next to the fire, he was positive that he looked positively ethereal. 

“Why did you come here?” Corpse asked. 

“I heard Toast mention you were down here,” Sykkuno said. “Thought I’d pay you a visit. I wanted to speed up to the ‘next time’. Sometimes you have to create the scenarios you want, you know?”

Corpse nodded. Sykkuno wanted to see him. He made sure that he saw him. 

“That’s uh. . .” Corpse stared into the fire. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Oh!” Sykkuno suddenly rummaged through the bag he had brought with him. “I brought marshmallows with me. I thought you might burn since you buried last time.”

This was truly a man after Corpse’s heart. 

“You’re a fucking genius,” Corpse laughed. “Do you have like the weird stick things too?”

“Of course,” Sykkuno said. “I can be fairly smart when I want to be.”

Sykkuno pierced one of the marshmallows with a prong before offering it to Corpse. 

“Woah,” Corpse chuckled as he took the marshmallow. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

“Stealing my jokes,” Sykkuno said as he prepped his own marshmallow. “Very classy.”

“It’s a good line,” Corpse said as he sat down on a log next to the fire. Convenience is a magical thing. 

“Are you one of those psychopaths that likes their marshmallows all the way burnt?” Sykkuno asked.

“Oh  _ fuck _ no,” Corpse said. “Are you?”

“I might be a psychopath, but I’m not one of those psychopaths.” 

“To golden brown it is,” Corpse said with a laugh. Sykkuno nodded in agreement as he stuck his marshmallow into the fire and sat down next to him 

“It’s always you that’s stalking me,” Corpse said. “Maybe I should turn that around.”

“Join the cartel,” Sykkuno said as he turned his marshmallow. “Then we wouldn’t have to stalk each other in the first place.”

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea anymore,” Corpse replied.

“Why?”

“Sykkuno,” Corpse said, not paying attention to his marshmallow and looking directly at the man beside him. “Think about the fall out.” Sykkuno blanched at that. 

“I suppose that’s fair. . .” he said. “We’d be able to handle it though.”

“It would be a literal war.”

“I-” Sykkuno sighed. “But if you joined, a lot of reform would happen. A lot could happen and. . .”

“And what?” Corpse asked. 

“We could see each other more,” Sykkuno shrugged shyly. He glanced down before a small giggle escaped his mouth. “Your marshmallow is on fire.”

“Oh fuck,” Corpse hurriedly started blowing on his marshmallow to no avail. It was a blackened disaster. “Well. . . I guess I’m a psychopath now.”

“Oh please Corpse,” Sykkuno scoffed. “You’ve always been crazy, now you’re just this specific type of crazy.”

“Are you saying you’re crazy too?” Corpse asked teasingly, he scooted closer to Sykkuno. 

“I wouldn’t mind going crazy with you,” Sykkuno murmured. 

They were so close, Corpse could see Sykkuno’s eyelashes fanning across his cheekbones. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but he was almost 100% sure Sykkuno just glanced at his lips. 

“Your uh. . .” Corpse saw something catch on fire out of the corner of his eye. “Your marshmallow caught on fire.”

“I can get a new one,” Sykkuno said, letting go of his metal stick. 

“Oh,” Corpse whispered. He wasn’t imagining things. He was right. God, was it good to be right for once. 

Corpse didn’t feel himself let go of his marshmallow stick, he heard it hit the sand. Just like how he didn’t realize that his hand was reaching out to cup Sykkuno’s cheek until he felt his skin. 

But he did know and feel Sykkuno’s lips against his. He did realize that he was being kissed by the man he had stared at whenever given the chance. That he was kissing the man with hot chocolate eyes and fluffy raven hair and a blinding smile. The man he had been thinking about non stop since he saw him on that marble balcony, was taking a chance on him. Was kissing him. 

Sykkuno pulled away, pressing his forehead to Corpse’s, the mask touching his skin. 

“Can-” Sykkuno breathed out heavily. “Can we do that again but maybe without the mask?”

Corpse felt himself freeze up. He knew this was going to be an issue.

“I-”

“I totally understand if you’re uncomfortable,” Sykkuno rushed out. “I would be too if I were you, I just. . .”

“We can do it, I just,” Corpse rummaged through his pockets. “I just need to make sure your eyes will be closed.” Sykkuno nodded enthusiastically. 

“I think I might have something in my bag,” Sykkuno began, but Corpse pulled out a sleep mask from one of his pockets. 

“I think this is from the Chicago flight,” Corpse said as he gave it to Sykkuno. “I don’t know why they gave these to us. It wasn’t a long flight.”

Sykkuno held the sleep mask in his hands. What Corpse was doing was a big deal. It wasn’t the first time he had broken one of his rules, but this was something incredible. It’s a bit amusing that Corpse only broke the rules for one person. 

“Are you sure?” Sykkuno asked. 

“I’m sure,” Corpse said. It was one of the only things he had ever been sure about. Sykkuno put the sleep mask on, he couldn’t see Corpse’s face, but he could see the fire flickering next to them. 

Corpse pulled the mask off of his face. The mask had always been a bit of a crafty art project. He’d bought a Phantom of the Opera mask from a Halloween store after watching Donnie Darko for the first time. He’d bought some purple paint and made Frank the Bunny out of it. The rest is history. The mask didn’t cover his lips, but it did cover his scar completely. It was enough to make sure that people couldn’t figure out who he was, and that was good enough for him. 

Sykkuno was hyper aware of Corpse’s hand on his face. He’d been blindfolded before but this was. . . different. This was a sort of intimacy that was formed entirely out of trust.

Corpse’s lips gently brushed Sykkuno’s. Their first kiss was lovely but this? This was heaven. 

Sykkuno sighed when it ended. A full whimsical sigh. And then. . . he giggled. Pure and bright as a bell and if Corpse’s heart didn’t ache earlier it certainly was bursting by now. 

“You’re so cute,” Corpse murmured. Sykkuno blushed.

“I’m. . . I’m not-”

“Yes you are,” Corpse said firmly. “You really fucking are.” 

Corpse pressed a kiss to Sykkuno’s cheek. And then one underneath his earlobe. And then one on his jaw. And then one on his neck. And then another, and another, and another, until Sykkuno put his index finger under Corpse’s chin and pushed him upward so he could kiss him on the mouth, good and properly. 

His hands ran into Corpse’s hair, curly black locks that he had longed to touch as soon as he saw him standing next to him on the balcony. If Corpse groaned after Sykkuno tugged on his hair, he wouldn’t say. That was a sound he would keep tucked away forever. 

And Corpse could touch Sykkuno now too. Touch the fluffy black hair that he had stared at in the coffee shop and in the forest and on the balcony. 

“You look good in normal clothes,” Corpse whispered into Sykkuno’s ear as he held him. “I mean you look hot as fuck in your suit but this. . .” Sykkuno chuckled into Corpse’s chest.

“That’s uh,” Corpse could practically hear Sykkuno blushing. “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s just honesty,” Corpse said. “I’m gonna put it back on now, okay?”

“Okay,” Sykkuno replied. And it truly was okay, he knew that one day he would get to see the man behind the mask. He’d do just about anything to keep him and if that meant not getting to see him completely, he was perfectly fine with that. 

Corpse secured the mask before tapping Sykkuno on the shoulder, signaling him to take off the sleep mask across his eyes. 

“Do you want to make unburnt marshmallows now?” Corpse asked. 

“Always,” Sykkuno replied. Corpse handed Sykkuno his metal stick before rummaging through his pockets yet again. 

“What are you looking for?” Sykkuno asked. Corpse was silent when he pulled out a piece of parchment. 

“Nothing important,” he muttered. Corpse stared into the fire and then back at the piece of paper in his hand. Before he could change his mind, Corpse threw the piece of paper into the fire, its crumpled edges decaying under the flame.

“Just some baggage,” Corpse said before smiling and taking his marshmallow from Sykkuno. 

“Well,” Sykkuno said, leaning his head on Corpse’s shoulder. “Hopefully you feel a lot lighter now.”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, looking down at the man next to him. “Yeah I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> UHHHHHHH yeah this one was longer than I expected but I'm glad I'm pushing myself! Wooooo!
> 
> AO3: marsisaplanet  
> BLR: thebriarpatch (I don't post much, but feel free to check it out if you're interested).


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